Just Run for the Fire Escape
by Zombie-Jedi-Nightwing
Summary: [modern day AU] He met him for the first time, making a big show of himself, the perfect image of an obnoxious fool; Obi-Wan Kenobi rolled his eyes and kept as far away from him as possible. He saw Anakin Skywalker a second time years later, standing in the middle of a thunderstorm in a panic attack with a gun. /Not slash/ Warning: attempted suicide


**[warning: rated PG-13 (T) for minor language, clinical depression, attempted suicide, and implied abuse]**

**A/N: Okay, this is a rather unusual "Star Wars" fanfic, a kind I've never posted before. I actually have a few oneshots and multi-chapter stories like this, this one was written about 3 weeks ago, but I've just never posted them until now. So, here's one of them. Warning: a major part of this oneshot deals with intense attempted suicide. This is a very touchy subject for many, and a lot more people, especially teens, deal with depression and these kind of things more than many people realize. So, please no flames or hate messages. Constructive criticism is always welcomed, as usual.**

**It's set in a modern-day AU, which means pretty much Star Wars characters in an Earth-like setting. Read and reviews are always adored.**

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><p>oOo<p>

The first time Obi-Wan Kenobi met – or rather, looked briefly at – Anakin Skywalker, it was when he was still a senior in college. Anakin had to be high school age then; and he only recognized the boy from his step-father, senator Ethan Palpatine. Even then, he didn't really notice his identity. He'd been passing by, the autumn weather still agreeable enough to walk around with a simple jacket, and spotted him and a group of older boys hanging out near the game store. Talking too loudly, smiling too brightly, laughing too obnoxiously for them to be up to any good. Unfortunately, the game store was where he had to pass to get back to campus; so he clear his throat and set forth, struggling to avoid any eye contact and just get back to his dorm.

Unfortunately, a black-haired teen decided to have fun and stuck his foot out just as he was passing by, successfully landing him face-first onto the pavement and earning a few snickers from his 'buddies'.

_Little brat_. He gave a disapproving grunt as he shoved himself back to his feet, wincing as he felt the stinging of his now-scraped palms, glaring at the black-haired boy and his followers. It wasn't hard for him to easily observe each member of the group. That's when he spotted Anakin Skywalker, this time fully recognizing the fifteen-year-old with a close up look at the pure blue eyes and shock of wild brown hair that made the kid popular with the media – and not just because of his father's status.

It was the black-haired brat's snarky voice that drew his attention moments after. "You staring at somethin', carrot head?"

"You mean besides finding how amusing your third-grader insults are?" he retorted, completely ignoring the comment to his copper hair, smiling at how the smirk immediately dropped from the teen's face. "Well, I'm just observing. Like that Ziploc bag of _something_ sticking out of your friend's pocket." He spent a moment relishing in said-friend's gaping. "I also can't help but notice that little bottle your blonde friend is trying to conceal. How old can he be? How old are you? Seventeen? Underage drinking…"

"Look dude, you got a problem with us?" Black Hair snapped, trying to sound intimidating, mostly sounding pathetic.

His smile grew. "My father is Commissioner Qui-Gon Jinn Kenobi. I'm sort of his eyes on the street."

And the boys were off sprinting down the street; and that's when he caught Anakin's arm, spinning the boy and making eye contact with the teen for the first time. Several years younger yet Anakin was his height already, icy eyes glaring at the older boy for the grip on his elbow. "What?" His tone screamed anger and irritation.

He wasn't fazed by it. "What are you doing hanging with those jerks? You shouldn't be, aren't you Anakin Palpa…"

"_Skywalker_," Anakin corrected coldly. "Palpatine is _not _my father. He'll never be my father, he's not my father…" He continued mumbling to himself before looking back up at him, eyes narrowing. "What the hell are you still doing here? Go away! You're not my boss!"

_What a lovely child_. "Alright then; but still… I, y'know, seen you around. Never thought you'd be hanging around with creeps like that."

"What do you care?" For several minutes, the furious glare kept up; but after finally realizing it was doing nothing to the older man, he seemed to realize anger wouldn't help and turned to downright arrogance. "Why don't you go mind your own business and run off to cop daddy. Or are you going back home to your dreadlock boyfriend, princess?"

He felt his face burning, no doubt that the obnoxious boy was talking about his best friend, Quinlan Vos. His grip unintentionally tightened on the youth, weakening Anakin's cocky smirk but not dimming it completely. He glared at the boy; and noticed two things. 1: Anakin Skywalker was an detestable, conceited _brat_. And 2: his smile was too wide. Too bright. The quirked eyebrow, meant to show off flawless arrogance, was too forced. The mischievous dancing in the eyes – too fake, and a veil to something more. He frowned down at him, brow knitting in concern; before Anakin yanked himself out of the young man's grip and ran off, not looking back.

He only stood there a second before rolling his eyes and continuing on his way, mentally noting to keep as far a distance as possible from Anakin Skywalker.

It was three years later when he met him for the second time, with the circumstances as different as night and day. Obi-Wan slammed the door to his squad car and spent a few moments in the driver's seat panting, shaking the rain from his hair and small shadow of whiskers. He had spent the first part of the day and afternoon an English teacher; and now used his evenings patrolling with Qui-Gon as a member of the police force. Eight o'clock at night, and the thunderstorm was driving down hard on the small neighborhood he was patrolling. The water came down in thick sheets, so that when he finally started the car, even the wipers did little to help his vision.

Which was why he couldn't believe how he managed to see him through the storm. But he did, just as he happened to look on the side window.

He was sitting near the edge of the park, slumped beneath the nearby trees and the street light. He didn't recognize him at first, only noticed that there was someone out there, in the storm, all alone, and looking as if the entire world had just bore unleashed its greatest fury upon him. So he pulled the car over, and rolled down the window, noticing with a creeping feeling in his gut how the figure cringed away at his presence.

"Are you alright?" he called out, concern laced in his tone, frown deepening when the figure shakily got to his feet, and began walking away with his hands in his pockets, dressed in nothing but jeans and a thin shirt.

_Bloody hell_. Alarms ringing in the back of his mind, gritting his teeth against the frigid weather, Obi-Wan shoved open the car's doors and slipped out into the storm, quickening his pace to catch up with the retreating man. "Sir, can you answer me? Are you alright?"

That's when the young man turned around, and he was met with the blue eyes of Anakin Skywalker and that annoying smirk. Only this time, Obi-Wan didn't find it arrogant or irritating; but chilling and concerning. Because the smile was trembling, and Obi-Wan saw the sheen of hot tears in those eyes that were now screaming trouble. Anakin Skywalker stared at him in the rain, hands still shoved in the pockets of his thin hoodie, slowly shaking his head, not recognizing him. Why should he? Obi-Wan felt ice flow through his veins when the now-eighteen-year-old gave out this bitter, cold laugh that sounded almost like a haunting wail in its echo. The grin widened on his face, and Obi-Wan took a step forward, trying to keep his heart rate from skyrocketing.

"Anakin?"

Another haunting laugh; but it slowed down a bit, and those wild blue eyes widened a bit as the younger man stared closer at him. "I-I know you?" He was still grinning – why was he still grinning? "D-Do I know you?"

"Not really, but we did meet once." He kept his voice extremely low, extremely calm, searching the boy from head to toe. That's when he saw the _blood_. _Oh god_. "Anakin, what's going on…?"

"You! You're the… you're the weird… th-the weird guy from that day with Nate!" Another hooting laugh. "You're him! Y-You're a cop now! Holy _shit! _You're him, you're him, you're him…"

He thought about calling Qui-Gon, or _someone_, because this kid was high, or drunk, or something…

And then he saw the tears, trailing down his cheeks along with the rain, even while the smile remained and the laughter continued. Laughter, which was now quickly morphing into sobs while blood continued to drip from his right hand and a small cut near his eye. Knife wounds…

And then Anakin pulled out a gun.

That's when his heart really stopped, when everything in his brain froze as the boy's left hand was yanked out of his jacket to reveal the tiny hand pistol, which he held with trembling fingers. For a few brief seconds, he was sure that he would end the night with a bullet in his chest, because what he saw in those blue eyes now was just pure, terrifying _chaos_.

But Anakin was shaking his head wildly now, licking his lips repeatedly, the smile slowly dissolving, little by little. "Don't worry, man," he choked out. "This isn't for you. This… this isn't for you. Why are you even here? Why… why aren't you with your cop daddy?"

"A-Anakin…"

"This isn't for you. I'm gonna fix everything, I won't screw this up, not this…"

The gun was pointed up.

"…I'll make everything okay again…"

"Anakin." He didn't know what to do, oh god, he didn't know what to do. All he could do was stare at those chaotic eyes, and the gleaming muzzle of the gun, the gun that was _pointed at Anakin's temple_.

_Holy shit... _The smile was gone completely, but the tears were still there, and the choking sobs, and that look of pure distress that screamed panic and fear and horror…

The young man stared wide-eyed at the him, still slowly shaking his head, bloodied right hand moving up and running through soaked brown strands of wild hair.

He couldn't move, knew he should, but just _couldn't_. "Anakin…" He swallowed, thought back to training. _I know this. I've been trained to deal with attempted suicides… holy shit, this is an attempted suicide. I'm dealing with a suicide attempt. _Anakin Skywalker _is attempting suicide…_ "Anakin… p-put down the gun, okay? How about we talk?"

"There's nothing to talk about!" was screamed back at him, catching him off guard so that he jumped a bit. "I'm sick of talking!" His voice was hoarse and scratched. "No more talking! I don't want to talk anymore!"

"Alright, just calm down...!" Things started moving fast, too fast.

"Shut up! Just shut up! All of you just _shut up_!" The last two words were mixed in with a deep, wailing sob that was torn from his throat. Then, the screams died down to frantic whimpers. "Make them stop, make them shut up, _please_…" He clutched at his head.

"Who, Anakin? Anakin, you need to talk to me, okay?! I'm not going to hurt you." He was on autopilot now, taking two steps forward, heart skipping a beat when he saw that the safety on the gun was now clicked off. _No, no, no…_ "Anakin, I'm going to help you, okay? My name is Obi-Wan, I'm here to help you…"

"I just it to stop, I just it all to stop…"

"Okay, okay, Anakin. What do you want to stop? Anakin, c'mon, let's talk."

"Everything! I just want everyone to just shut up and leave me alone! Why can't you just leave me alone? Please, please just leave me alone." It was a whine now. Lightning flashed above them, thunder rumbled, and it was freezing sleet coming down on them now. Anakin looked up at the rain, then cringed, digging the nails of his right hand into his scalp. "It's too loud, and it burns… why does everything always have to hurt?!" He shoved the gun deeper near into the flesh of his forehead. "I'm gonna make it stop! It's all gonna stop now!"

"NO! Anakin, no! Don't!" He took another shaky step forward, saw the tempest not only around him but in the young man standing before him, and took a deep breath. "Anakin, I can make it stop, okay? What hurts you right now, Anakin?" No answer. He looked at the now-congealing blood. "Is it your hand? What happened to your hand, Anakin? What happened to your head? Did you hurt your head? Is that what's wrong…?"

"Everything hurts! Everything _always_ hurts! It's always gonna hurt!"

"No, it won't! But you need to talk to me, Anakin, please! Your head…"

"He thought it was funny." The bitter, dark tone was back, mixed in with the panic. "That bastard always thinks it's funny! He likes it when it burns, he likes it when it hurts! I can't take it anymore! I can't, I can't, I can't…"

_He_. "Who, Anakin, who?"

"He thinks it's funny. He's always gonna make sure it hurts, because he likes to laugh at me…"

And then, Obi-Wan felt the image of Ethan Palpatine flash through his mind, a picture from a newspaper two years ago. The article about how he taken Anakin out of high school for some 'secret' reason, rumors of social services investigating the household, the tabloids spreading the news that the son of Palpatine was caught with drugs more than once, underage drinking, "out of control" they said. And Palpatine always giving the answer that he would deal with it, never letting anyone close enough to examine the child personally…

He was a detective. He could piece together the puzzles even with only scraps of input. He stared now at Anakin, determination to fix this whole chaotic mess setting in. "Anakin." Voice more controlled now, less frantic. "Anakin, I'm going to help you. I won't let him hurt you anymore…"

"You don't know what you're talking about!"

"Palpatine!" He forced the word out and watched Anakin stumble backwards, eyes widening, the head shaking beginning again. "Anakin, I won't let Palpatine near you anymore, alright? I'm going to help you through this, alright?" He didn't know why, but he pretty much knew he wasn't saying this on the spur of the moment. He would _help_ him. He silently promised this to himself, not caring that he didn't even know this kid, just that he _needed _to help him for some unknown reason. "That's it, isn't it? Palpatine? That's what your so scared of…"

"I'm not scared!" Voice dropped a bit. "I just… I'm gonna fix everything…"

"Not like this you can't. Anakin, this… this isn't right. I can help you. You have to trust me…"

"Why?!"

_Yes, why?_ "Because… I want to help you. I _can _help you. Just…" He outstretched his hand, biting his lip, silently begging _someone_ would come help him. "Just… please, Anakin, please give me the gun. Please."

He didn't hand it over; but he didn't pull the trigger or freak out again. In fact, he almost looked like he was actually listening. "I _can't_. I need it…"

"No you don't." Somehow, he was whispering but still being loud enough to be heard over the raging quell around them. "You have me now."

"You."

"Yes." _Me. Why the hell would he believe _me? "You can't trust me. I know you don't even know me, but…"

"You're the redhead that chased off Nate three years ago."

_Hm_. "Y-Yes."

A teeny bit of the cloudiness was slowly beginning to melt out of those blue eyes. Just a bit. "I-I need this," he tried again, though the effort had no force behind the words. "It's better this way…"

"No its not, Anakin. I really need you to trust me. Just for a little while. Okay?" He took another step forward. "We can fix this, Anakin, I promise." Another step. "I promise."

Another step, another second passed by.

And then, all at once, the gun splashed into the mud, and so did Anakin as he collapsed onto his knees, sobbing uncontrollably, fingers tangled desperately in his hair. "What's wrong with me?! What's _wrong with me_?!"

And he was on his knees beside him, one had throwing that damn gun far out of reach. "It's okay, Anakin, it'll be okay…"

"Help me, oh please, Obi-Wan, help me…" He looked up at him, water pouring from his eyes and the skies, still sobbing. "I think I'm going insane, and I'm scared… please, please, something is _wrong with me_, help me! Please…"

"I'm going to help you, Anakin! It's going to be alright, okay? Everything is going to be alright…"

And then the young man was in his arms, crying into his police jacket, still whimpering "Help me". And he held onto him, the rain and winds swirling around them. He bent over him, shielding the quaking boy, tightening his grip on him before looking up at the chaotic skies as the storm crashed and raged.

"It'll be alright, Anakin. I'm going to help you. I swear I'm going to help you."

He didn't have a reason why, and honestly, he knew he didn't need one.

oOo

Four years later he met his new police partner as he stepped out of the station. Obi-Wan Kenobi stared at twenty-two-year-old Anakin Skywalker with a beaming grin, immediately clasping the boy on the shoulder when he was near enough. "Blue's a good look on you," he commented lightly, to which the younger man grinned.

"Well, I've got you to thank for the new wardrobe." Pure, _clear _blue eyes gleamed with anticipation. "I talked to Padme earlier today, and got a date Friday night. I think I might just stand a chance with her."

"Really? Nice score, little bro." Both men slipped into the squad car, and that's when Obi-Wan took the holster and badge out and held it out to the younger man.

Anakin stared at the gun for a long moment, eyes swirling with mixed emotions before he slowly took it and strapped it to his waist. "You're sure I'm ready for this?"

"Anakin, you've worked two years for this," he said gently, smiling. "I _know _you're ready. And Dad would've thought so too."

Qui-Gon Jinn's memory came to both their minds. It hadn't been too hard for Obi-Wan to take in Anakin as his roommate four years ago, to get him on the medications he needed and to get Ethan Palpatine out of office and behind bars, all because of Qui-Gon's efforts. Presently, Anakin gave a wan smile. "Thanks for everything."

Another brotherly shoulder clasp. "You earned it. Now let's go."

oOo

_"__Sometimes it still hurts and burns; but now there's no reason to fight the fire. We're together now. All we have to do is run for the fire escape, hand in hand." __-Kristin Just_


End file.
